


be careful what you say (or you’ll give yourself away)

by tiltingheartand



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Dr. Harris Bonkers is Sir Not-Appearing-In-This-Film, M/M, Rated T for language, terrible lying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-14
Updated: 2018-11-14
Packaged: 2019-08-23 12:39:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16619132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiltingheartand/pseuds/tiltingheartand
Summary: Barclay and Agent Stern go on a few dates. It goes both better and worse than expected.





	be careful what you say (or you’ll give yourself away)

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by a tumblr post i did not have the foresight to save in which people discussed the sad lack of fic about barclay and agent stern dating and barclay having to hide being bigfoot. title is from “secret agent man” because i couldn’t not. also any errors here are mine.

This whole goddamn sorry mess, Barclay has decided, is Duck’s fault. That’s his story; he’s sticking to it.

  
  
  
  


The day they’d brought Billy back to the Lodge, when Barclay ran back upstairs to intercept the _federal fucking agent_ before he got far enough to see the _goatman bleeding out in the goddamn basement_ , he’d actually.

Well.

Not his proudest moment, to be honest, but his “Would you like to have dinner with me?” had certainly taken Agent Stern by surprise. He didn’t think it had been too off-topic; he’d been desperately trying to make conversation without seeming desperate, and somehow what Agent Stern had been doing in his off time had come up. It was a logical next step.

(He can say that until the sun sets, but he’d still be lying if he said it hadn’t taken him by surprise too. Mostly because it’s probably not the best idea to take the federal agent staying in the lodge where you live so he can try and track down the cryptid that’s actually you _out to dinner_.)

(Not that the idea hadn’t crossed his mind once or twice, but fuck.)

On the other hand, it had definitely taken the focus off the noise Agent Stern — “call me Tom, please, I’ve been asking you to call me Tom for almost a month, isn’t getting dinner a perfect time to start?” — had heard coming from the basement, so that was a definite plus.

  
  
  
  


Dinner had gone better than he expected, honestly.

It wasn’t at the Lodge, because Barclay was many things but suicidal was not one of them. No way was he going to go on anything bearing the slightest resemblance to a first date anywhere near there. They actually wound up having French onion soup — it had come highly recommended — and staying there for almost three hours.

Barclay didn’t date much, for many different reasons; he’d been worried something would be off, something would be awkward. (Which was ridiculous, because this wasn’t a real date, as he reminded himself for the eightieth time. Not a real date. Just — an accident, really. It would come, it would go, it would fizzle, they’d part with no hard feelings. No problem.) But it honestly — something somewhere just clicked.

It had come as a shock to discover they’d been there for three hours. When Tom asked if he wanted to have dinner again sometime he told him yes without thinking about it.

Speaking of moments that weren’t his proudest. Fuck.

  
  
  
  


After about seven hours of teasing combined between Dani and Aubrey — and Duck, who had shown up at the Lodge looking for Aubrey, for something Barclay never even caught but might have had something to do with Ned, and when he found the three of them in Dani’s room had promptly joined in, like an asshole — he figured he might as well just go on the second date.

And it was definitely a second date, at this point. He’d maybe be able to kid himself it was just two unexpected friends enjoying another meal together, because that was a thing people did, but just because he didn’t date much didn’t mean he didn’t recognize flirting when he saw it. Or when he did it.

But their respective Secret Identities didn’t have to come up, he reassured himself. Not that Tom’s was a secret, really— “You’re dating one of the Men in Black?” had been Aubrey’s initial reaction, and she’d returned to it once or twice — but his certainly was. No way was it going to end well if that came out.

(No way was it going to end well, full stop, probably, but he’d burn that bridge when he got there.)

  
  
  
  


He made up his mind, after the second date. No more. This had to end. This time they’d talked for almost four hours before they left.

(This time when Barclay walked Tom to his room after dinner, after driving him to dinner and then back to the Lodge, they’d kissed against Tom’s door until he managed to get it open, and then they’d kissed on Tom’s sofa until Barclay managed to pull himself away.)

This _had_ to end. This was headed straight to Nowhere Good, one way or the other.

  
  
  
  


Once Duck had stopped laughing, he’d been perfectly willing to let Barclay borrow his apartment for the evening. He’d even made sure to take Beacon with him for the night, although for all Barclay knew that meant Duck had left the damn thing in his truck under the driver’s seat.

(That was a great mental image, whether or not it was what happened. Barclay thought he’d stick with it.)

This was Barclay’s reasoning: they’d had dinner out twice now. It would maybe be nice to just grab something, since he didn’t like to cook for people he was dating until they’d been dating for more than a week, and eat it in the comfort of their own home. And since both of them were calling the Lodge home, at the moment, and there was no fucking way he was going to have a date at the Lodge, however he meant it to end, the next best option was to ask a friend.

“Neither of y’all are allergic to cats, are you?” was all he’d asked, although it had certainly looked like he was trying very hard to keep himself from asking any more. He’d probably get the rest of those questions tomorrow.

  
  
  
  


So. Here is where they are. Sitting in Duck’s apartment, eating pizza — truly one of Barclay’s favorite things about this planet — talking about childhood pets while Duck’s cat makes herself comfortable on Barclay’s lap.

He’s been trying to tell himself that easy conversation is nothing special, that meeting someone who wants to touch you just as much as you want to touch him is commonplace, that none of what’s happening here is worth preserving, because seriously, _seriously_ , this could go so bad so quick there would be no saving it. None. No saving anything, no saving anyone, everyone at the Lodge fucked, all on him because he refused to stop dating a goddamn monster hunter.

But he’s been putting most of his brain toward that, and whatever there was left toward talking to Tom, so he’s not quite paying as much attention as he might to where Tom’s hands are. Which means that when the hand Tom’s been petting Duck’s cat with moves a few inches and comes down, instead, on Barclay’s wrist, thumb lightly stroking across the back of his hand and fingers on top of his bracelet — _his bracelet_ — it comes as such a shock his entire body goes still for a few seconds.

Which definitely, definitely didn’t draw any unusual attention or suspicion or anything, judging by the way Tom pulls his hand back immediately, worry clear on his face. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you or something? Do you not — I can not touch you, if you don’t want.”

“No, I’m fine,” Barclay says, reaching forward to take Tom’s hand in his own this time. “I think I told you, I don’t really date a lot. You just took me by surprise, is all.”

“Oh,” says Tom, and he looks a little doubtful but for the moment he seems to accept it. He turns their hands over and strokes his thumb across the back of Barclay’s hand once or twice more before stopping and looking back up. “This is quite the bracelet, by the way.”

Oh fuck.

Correct, appropriate responses: _thanks!_ or _yeah, Dani made it for me,_  or, oh yeah, just fucking thanking him and moving along from there.

Is that what he actually says? He’s been worried about this happening since the first time they went out; he should’ve had something planned by now, right?

Not so much.

  
  
  
  


The next morning, after he and Tom wash Duck’s sheets, feed his cat, and kiss each other goodbye — well, more than kiss; it had been a close thing between leaving like they’d planned and just deciding they could wash Duck’s sheets again later and going back to bed — Barclay returns to the Lodge utterly conflicted. Tom’s going somewhere else in town this morning, he knows, but Tom’s not the only one at the Lodge by a long shot and at this point it’s not Tom he’s worried about.

“Barclay!” Aubrey says when she sees him walk through the door, grinning and doing something with her eyebrows he imagines wants to be a salacious wiggle, and _that_ was who he was worried about, shit. She couldn’t have still been in bed with Dani?

He very carefully refrains from saying that out loud, instead mumbling something “good morning”-related and trying to walk past her.

Aubrey is having none of that. He’s not even sure why he tried. “Wait, did something bad happen? Is everything okay?”

She looks concerned, and he realizes belatedly what this probably seems like. “Everything’s fine, don’t worry about it. More than fine,” he says, briefly letting himself get lost in the memory of the better part of the previous night, the part after the part he’s trying to pretend didn’t happen and can’t when Aubrey is standing right in front of him asking what’s wrong.

“Hey, great! I think! Whatever works for you,” she says, a little of the earlier grin sneaking back onto her face. “Is something else wr—“ she starts.

“I told him I’m wearing this bracelet because I promised Dr. Harris Bonkers, Ph.D., I would,” he says in a rush, cutting her off, and sits down heavily in the nearest chair as soon as it’s out of his mouth.

She stares at him, mouth still open, and slowly sits down across from him, managing a few seconds later to say “What the fuck?”

Which is a great question, all things considered, and he tells her that.

“You haven’t, like. Been taking lying lessons from Duck, or something, have you? Or maybe entered into some eldritch agreement where he takes on some of your attributes and you take on some of his? It has seemed like he’s been wearing a lot of plaid lately.”

“Plaid is fantastic,” he says, more reflex than anything else, and sighs.

“Just, like. That’s a very Duck-caliber lie, right there, is what it is.”

“I know! It’s horrible! I have no idea what possessed me to say it!”

“... did it seem like he bought it?”

“Honestly, not even a little, but the way he looked at me it seemed like it was ridiculous enough he wasn’t going to press me on it.”

“Okay good, because I was gonna tell you, if he bought it you’re probably pretty safe bracelet-wise, although dating-wise you might wanna run for the hills anyway.”

Barclay snorts and nods, and thankfully that’s where she lets it drop.

  
  
  
  


Two days later he mentions offhandedly to Duck that he was planning on reorganizing the pantry this weekend, and Duck says “Why? Did Dr. Harris Bonkers, Ph.D., ask you to?”

He probably should’ve seen that coming.

**Author's Note:**

> i also live on [tumblr](http://tiltingheartand.tumblr.com/).


End file.
